


Padfoot

by thunderbun_01



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Azkaban, Childhood Memories, Dementors, Diary/Journal, Memories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 04:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6738874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderbun_01/pseuds/thunderbun_01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius Black is, according to the Ministry, an insane killer, and thus carefully locked up into the most heavily guarded prison in the wizard society.<br/>When Dumbledore gives him a hand in the form of a book and a pen, he feels something burning just as strong as his innocence. </p><p>-The diary-idea is based on the style of the Juliette-trilogy by Tahereh Mafi. All characters belong to JK Rowling.-</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Fudge just came by.

"Here," he had said, drops of sweat on his forehead. He had handed me a book and a pen. "You've got something to do, now."

"You think I'm bored, sir?" I had asked after I had accepted the gifts.

Fudge had shot me a weak smile while dabbing his shining forehead with a lace handkerchief. His eyes had darted towards the Dementor hovering beside him, motionless, and he had mumbled something about Dumbledore, before answering my question. "Well, you haven't got much to do, no?"

And then, without giving me so much of a glimpse, he had turned around to walk away from my cell with quick, nervous steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are supposed to be diary entries. Some will be very short, and some will be longer.


	2. Chapter 2

They scream in their sleep

The other prisoners.

They scream words and sentences, almost unintelligible because of their hysteria. They yearn for the moment of them finally being able to avenge ~~_the Dark Lord_~~ Voldemort. They yearn for the moment when they can finally take revenge on the pathetic heap of a man who was once called Peter Pettigrew ~~_but he's dead and they can't do anything_~~. 

' _LORD_ …'

The shrieking, the roaring, the begging: it's something I've become accustomed to, though I still am unable to sleep through it. In fact, the volume is so high that I'm surprised they don't sound hoarse by now.

'... _AVENGE YOU..._ '

Most prisoners here are Death Eaters. That is, the Death Eaters who acknowledged their loyalty to Voldemort after his fall. Enough, I've heard, have denied their fidelity, or said that they were under the Imperius Curse.

'... _ALLEGIANCE_...'

The prisoners weep, too. It sounds like the wailing of a small child, a hurt child, or a beaten child. This, of course, is caused by their worst memories surfacing because of the prescence of the Dementors.

'... _WORMTAIL_...'

I always want to scream to them to shut up. I always want to cry out that Wormtail is dead, that he's blown himself up. That they're right of him being a traitor.  But I cannot get myself to do it.

It's like the words are stuck.  ~~ _Like me._~~

_ ~~Depressing, Sirius, very depressing. Those Dementors are finally reaching their goal.~~ _

James would've laughed himself to death.

"What?" He would have chuckled. "You? Quiet? That's a first."

Remus on the other hand would've looked for a solution. He would have balanced an old and heavy library book in his hands, and he would've quickly browsed through the pages.

Lily would have ruled out any solutions Remus would've come with, since, as she would say: "there is no other solution against Dementors except producing a patronus. And Sirius, in case you haven't noticed, _you don't have a wand._ "

A note which is, of course, entirely correct.  

_But James and Lily are dead, and Remus thinks I'm the one who murdered them._

 


	3. Chapter 3

When I was younger, at Grimmauld Place number twelve, when I didn't go to Hogwarts yet and when the family visited, I always wanted to lock myself up in my room.

The looks, the gossiping, the whispers, the shrill laughter - I couldn't stand it. My mother always ordered me to ignore it, to stand up straight, to stick my nose up in the air, but I still felt uncomfortable. Small, especially. And because my room was my property, my domain, I felt way safer. My parents respected my request for privacy and rarely stepped into my room. Even Regulus, my two years younger brother, knocked before he went to ask if he could sleep next to me after a nightmare.

The first time someone truly entered my room with my permission, was in 1968.

It was my ninth birthday.

The first part of the day had been, according to the terms of our household, enjoyable. I don't remember much. My parents gifted me a golden pocket watch, Regulus gave me a drawing, and Kreacher gave me a cake. My parents shot me a genuine smile a few times.

The second part of the day wasn't as enjoyable, hence me remembering it better.

Of all the family members visiting, impressed uncle Cygnus, aunt Druella, Bellatrix, Andromeda and Narcissa everybody the most.

Firstly, Narcissa entered with Lucius Malfoy. Even though the couple wasn't exactly unexpected, seemed especially grandmother Irma and grandfather Pollux shocked, since Narcissa had been thirteen at the time.

Secondly, Andromeda was still single. Uncle Cygnus and aunt Druella had been bragging about Andromeda marrying some Crabbe not long before, and this was, judging Cygnus' and Druella's faces, more or less a lie. Bellatrix, in her last year of Hogwarts, had just engaged herself to Rodolphus Lestrange, her little sister Narcissa had Lucius at her side, but Andromeda's better half was shining in absence.

And thirdly, Bellatrix showed a few tricks her fiancé had taught her.

She took her wand out of her pocket, pointed it at the hamster that Regulus and I had gotten for Christmas the year before, and said, with a small smirk, the first curse.

I'd never heard of the Unforgivable Curses. She'd used _Imperio_ to make the hamster throw its head at the bars of its cage. Even though the controlling of the actions of another living organism was intriguing for a nine-year-old child, it felt like an invisible hand had grabbed my heart, and had started to squeeze.

The Cruciatus-curse made sure that the small animal was hurting. Its small legs had been wrenched in all directions, its small back had been bent that far, that it almost broke. The animal squeaked and whined, and judging from the look in Bellatrix' eyes, she did enjoy it more than enough.

And then she'd said it. Two simple words, a green flash of light, and the animal that had been squeaking in pain wasn't squeaking anymore. Bellatrix had chuckled and Rodolphus couldn't have been prouder.

And it hurt. The hamster that always crawled in the warm corners of your clothing, that small animal with the soft fur, was dead. Regulus' bottom lip shook. "It's just a hamster," I had heard my father whisper angrily. But that hamster had been two children's' pet. The hand around my heart was been squeezing so hard that it hurt terribly. Tears burned behind my eyes, but I had forced them back, straightened my shoulders, stuck my nose up in the air, and had smiled at Bellatrix.

Several people had clapped, and I understood why those curses were called unforgivable.

The party went on. Kreacher had disposed of the dead hamster, the family had complimented my parents with "such handsome, polite and intelligent boys", that same family gave me money, and after a lot of long, boring conversations about why wizards were superior to muggles, Kreacher finally announced dinner. During dinner, there were even more long, boring conversations about why wizards were that superior when Bellatrix excused herself to leave.

"Women's issues," she'd said rudely when I opened my mouth. She had turned around abruptly, her long, dark hair whipping around her head and her robes rustling, and had stepped into the hallway with that sort of elegance only Bellatrix could achieve.

The conversations had gone on. Rodolphus had made himself comfortable with Bellatrix' foie gras and mashed potatoes, my mother had sent me a venomous glance when I corrected grandfather Arcuturs about something I shouldn't have known anything about, and Regulus played with his peas.

The time Kreacher conjured the desserts on the table, Bellatrix returned. She had held her wand in one hand, and she held the other behind her back. She had been grinning zo insanely that aunt Druella shot her an angry look. Bellatrix ignored her mother's glare and had looked around the table until her eyes stopped at me. At that moment, her grin grew bigger, if possible. "I still want to show you one last thing," she had said, and then she showed what she had been holding in her other hand: a black teddy bear.

I felt all colour retreating from my face.

That teddy bear was _my_ teddy bear. She had been in my room. _My_ room. Bellatrix was, with her childish kind of madness, certainly the last person to be allowed in my room.

After she had put the stuffed animal on the table, she had pointed her wand at something that wasn't hers for the second time that day.

" _Diffindo_."

With one small swish had the teddy bear been ripped to shreds. The family had clapped. Kreacher had cleaned up the residues of the teddy bear. Everybody had started eating their dessert.

Later, when everybody was gone and I walked into my room, it had been a mess. She had moved my bed and crumpled the sheets, she had thrown the doors of my wardrobe wide open and had thrown the garments on the ground in small heaps. A box with old toys had been completely emptied upside down and then carelessly thrown aside, causing old, crackling toy wands, a collection of Choco-frog pictures, muttering magicians action figures and a magical toy cash register spraying fake money all over the floor, to lay scattered on the ground. A dishevelled toy broom whizzed around my room in circles. And as the icing on the cake, Bellatrix had burned something into my wall with giant letters:

 

_HAPPY BIRTHDAY_

 


	4. Chapter 4

_~~Stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop~~ _

_~~Please ~~ _

**_ ~~I beg you~~ _ **


	5. Chapter 5

I remember the day my father hugged me for the first time.

I remember that day because it isn't a happy memory. 

It was during the summer holidays, and it was raining. My mother was furious and throwing different types of porcelain at my head. I succeeded in avoiding every single piece. 

I do not remember what had made her so angry. Probably because that is a happy memory. 

" _BLOOD TRAITOR_ ," she'd screeched. " _MUGGLE COMPANION..._ " she'd screamed.

_~~A figurine had been shattered against the wall.~~ _

She screamed those words to hurt me. She screamed those accusations in the hope that I would deny it, that I would go along with what she strived for. What our _entire family_ strived for. 

It did not work. 

"What?" I'd screamed back. "Is it such a problem to accept people _for who they are?_ "

~~_Then it was a vase._ ~~

Her face had become purple, apart from the pale spots on her cheeks. " _MUDBLOOD MATE_ _!_ "

:"Can't you come up with anything better?" I'd laughed. _Laughed._

~~_A plate, decorated with our coat of arms._ ~~

" _SHUT UP!_ "

"By Merlin, mother, I have to admit your aim is quite amazing."

I don't know wheter that was the last drop, or wheter that drop had fallen sooner, but she grabbed the tray of pork pies from Kreacher's bony fingers, pies that actually were destined for tea time, and began to swing to my head with an impossible force for a woman with such thin arms. They splashed apart against the wall, one by one, and then fell down to the floor to sink set to mournful golden brown heaps of food.

"That was quite the waste, mother," I had said. "Kreacher makes damn good pork pies."

My mother had produced some kind of animalistic sound that sounded suspiciously similar to an angry rhino's and her eyes almost rolled back into her head. Her hand had gone to her right pocket, and she had grabbed something way more damaging than flying food or porcelain. 

Her wand.

This, of course, was quite common. She usually said a curse that stiffened me up, or she just threatened me, resulting in me going to my room silently. But it was different this time. 

She had pointed the thing at me and had moved her wrist. I saw her mouth forming the word. 

" _CRUCIO!_ "

I've never forgiven her. 

When I saw my hamster being cursed at age nine, and hearing it squeak, I'd imagined what the pain would feel like. Thousands of papercuts, together with a kick to the stomach, a slap to the face, and boiling water being poured over you.

That's quite an understatement. 

Even though nothing can match up to the pain I felt when I saw James and Lily _~~dead dead~~_ dead, this came quite close. It's almost unbearable. It's slowly being crushed, being set fire to, having all your bones broken, and the pain of heartbreak. 

And you're screaming. You're yelling and you're screaming until your lungs give out, while tears stream down your cheeks. You squeeze your eyes shut. You clamp your jaw. 

As quick as it'd started, it stopped. I had let me fall down on the ground, panting. Then I had raised my head with some difficulty to face the woman I called my mother. I noticed her shaking. 

She had tears in her eyes and her right hand was holding her wand so tightly, her knuckles had turned white.

And I realised to myself that it had to hurt her to hurt a boy she had given birth to that much. 

 _ ~~And it hurt me~~_ So I had looked at her with as much hate as possible. After staring at each other for a while, she'd turned around and walked away. 

I remember me being able to get myself up the stairs and fill my trunk. I had my broom in one hand and my trunk in the other when I went running away.

The thing was, my father and Regulus were standing in the doorway.

When I had told them to leave because _I_ wanted to leave, Regulus walked up to me and threw his arms around me. 

It was such a sweet and innocent gesture that I almost started to cry. Meanwhile, my father had grabbed his wand and made sure that my trunk was attached to my broom. Then he walked up to the two of us and too threw his arms around us. 

The first hug I'd ever received from my father, was after my mother had cursed me. 

When I went to James' place that night, I'd left Grimmauld place number twelve for good. I've never seen my father nor my mother ever again. 

I did run into Regulus  _regularly_ , if you'll excuse the pun. But he was always with his Death Eater friends and I was disgusted. Two years after I left, he became a Death Eater. He died a year later. My father was murdered around the same time after a bunch of Aurors busted a Death Eater conference he was visiting, even though he never ended up being a Death Eater. My mother died later, probably of the causes of a broken heart. 

I am the only one still living out of this broken family. I am the last one of the male line of Black. 

_And I'm not even alive._  
  


**Author's Note:**

> These chapters are supposed to be the entries in a diary. Some will be very short, some will be way longer.


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